


you are what i need

by InLust



Series: the case of roommates [5]
Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, PWP, established something ship, pure underadulterated smut, sherlock is a service top, sherlock needs her wato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLust/pseuds/InLust
Summary: Sherlock can't focus on her case and needs Wato.





	you are what i need

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this is a poor excuse for some smut in this fandom because it's dry out there....with lack of sex...and i've been sitting on this fic for awhile getting stuck writing it. i've totally done better so i hope like you guys will at least enjoy this a bit HOWEVER this mini series ive got going on can finally come to a close and i can work on some other watolock concepts ive been letting stew in the background

Sherlock tips the packet of chocolate and the very last one slips out of the package quite anticlimactically into her palm. She inhales with annoyance because not only is it her last piece, but because she still can’t concentrate. She fiddles with the chocolate between her fingers and finds herself debating whether or not to eat it because regardless, she can’t concentrate. 

Sometimes her mind is too cumbersome with a million thoughts, facts, and theories running through it. All the scenarios starting from point A to point B play in her mind in an endless stream. 

Sherlock is addicted to chocolate in the way that makes her mind stop for a brief moment; when the rich cacao presses against her tongue, she tastes the subtle bitterness before it melts into a smooth gentle sweetness. It feels wonderful as she briefly sucks on the piece before biting into it with a small satisfying snap. 

In an instant, Sherlock could feel the release of serotonin in her brain, followed by a burst of energy as her mind fires neurons, and the blood flowing with ease through her body. 

But no.

Not today. 

Sherlock feels too frustrated, teetering unevenly between a seesaw of thoughts and emotions. 

Her latest case has her restless with too many components. There’s a larger picture, something more sinister and devastating than Moriwaki’s plans. The thought of something more sinister than Moriwaki makes her twitch. 

She throws the piece of chocolate down, opting to pick up her phone. 

_ Forget dinner. Come now, I need you. _

Wato sees the text as she stands just outside of the door with dinner. After a long shift at the hospital, she wants nothing more than to relax with her shoes off, eating dinner with Sherlock and hearing about her case. 

Instead of texting, Wato pushes the door open, announcing, “I’m home, Sher--” 

Before she can even react, Sherlock’s jumped out of her seat, relieving her of the bag of food and her purse quickly. 

“What’re you--” 

Wato’s words are cut off with Sherlock’s lips on hers quickly, her cool hands coming up to the base of her neck and cupping her cheek. Sherlock kisses her hard, almost demanding as it is welcoming and Wato barely breathes. Wato automatically reaches up to grasp Sherlock’s shoulders and kisses back slowly, pacing Sherlock.

There’s a small sigh that comes out of Sherlock’s lips as they continue to kiss. 

Wato can tell Sherlock’s frustrated as she slides her tongue briefly across her lips, begging for entrance. There’s a shiver that runs down her spine and Wato brings her hands up to Sherlock’s neck before tangling her fingers in her hair, grasping gently to slow Sherlock down. Her nails scratch at Sherlock’s scalp gently. 

There’s a quiet whine from Sherlock followed by a groan and she keens into Wato. Her hands move underneath Wato’s trench coat, pushing at the shoulders to shove them off. 

Wato lets go of Sherlock’s hair, blindly letting Sherlock push off her jacket. She takes this opportunity to pull back, trying to catch her breath. “Wait, Sherlock--” Her jacket falls to the ground with a low thump. 

Sherlock catches her by the waist and pulls her in until they’re chest to chest. “Do you want me to stop?” she rasps before ducking down to nuzzle her face in Wato’s neck. 

Wato squeals at the sudden contact and giggles as Sherlock presses gentle kisses at her neck. “Sherlock!” Her arms come up around Sherlock’s shoulders to pull her in. Sherlock rakes her teeth against the base of her neck that has Wato biting her lip to hold back a loud moan. “Sherlock…” Wato sighs out, fingers tangling in Sherlock’s short locks once more. “Wait, please.” She moans quietly with a small lick. “Let’s go to my room.” 

It’s hard for Wato to concentrate when Sherlock riles her up so quickly. Sherlock knows exactly where to touch her to make her feel hot and kiss her in ways that make her shiver. There was a time that Wato fantasized about what falling in love would be like, what reveling in love would be like, but nothing was comparable to Sherlock. Some days were like fire, burning, passionate, agonizing. Some days were like ice, soothing, calming, healing. Some days they were a little bit of both. 

Wato feels like today Sherlock has too much on her mind to separate her emotions and logic through simple rationalization. But she also needs to slow down. Wait. Reorient. Regroup. 

Wato peels herself out of Sherlock’s grasp, much to her frustration and turns to lead them to her bedroom. She takes a step towards the door and gets pulled back. Sherlock’s hands wrap around her like tightly grasping vines, snaking around her waist, up her chest. Her hands boldly touching Wato as she dips her head to kiss Wato’s neck. 

“Sher-lock…” Wato breathes raggedly, feeling shrouded by Sherlock’s warmth against her back. A whimper escapes her lips as Sherlock cups her breast over her white linen shirt; the fabric is thin enough to feel how hot Sherlocks hands are on her. “Please--ah--” Her head lolls back as Sherlock’s other hand daringly slips into her jeans. She bites her lip, grasping Sherlock’s wrist, unsure of whether to encourage or discourage her. “Bed--” 

“You’re all ready for me here,” Sherlock confidently points out as her hand cups Wato’s mound. There’s a moan as she feels the heat and wetness pooling. “The bed can wait.” Her breath is hot in Wato’s ear. 

“Sherlock...please,” Wato groans as Sherlock’s fingers press her increasingly damp panties against her. The discomfort grows, Wato wants to be rid of her clothes and break the growing tension Sherlock incites. There’s a small smile on Sherlock’s lips as she kisses Wato’s neck. Wato shakes as Sherlock rubs her over her wet panties and cups her breast even harder. 

It’s improper and indecent for them to do this in the middle of such an open space. This is where they entertain guests. The space is open for everyone and for them to be---

Wato eyes fall to Sherlock’s desk and she sees the open files and articles pulled up on her computer screen. She lolls her head as Sherlock kisses her neck; her eyes briefly spy the chocolate wrappers on the table. 

“Do you want more?” Sherlock murmurs against her neck, breaking her concentration.

Wato can feel her nipples harden as Sherlock kneads her breasts and her clit becomes more sensitive as Sherlock rubs her. She chokes out a gasp and clenches her legs together, teetering close to the edge. It’s pushing into her quickly and she needs to stop Sherlock because this can’t become a habit. It was already bad enough Miss Hatano caught them in an indecent position when they weren’t...engaging in sexual relations, but it’s another thing when they decided on the terms of their new...companionship.

“Bedroom, Sherlock, please,” Wato pleads breathlessly. 

There’s a small vibration from the back of Sherlock’s throat against her neck, but the deep intention her hands press into Wato slowly eases their grasp. Wato is able to breath just for a brief moment before Sherlock’s hand finds hers and she’s being led upstairs quickly. 

Wato trails after her giggling because Sherlock moves with intention. There’s a bit of excitement and affection that warms Wato to her core.

Sherlock almost wants to say something about Wato’s giggling as she leads them up to her room. It’s not an amusing circumstance. Sherlock feels the frustration stirring inside of her. Emotions get in the way of intellectual productivity.

Wato can help with this. Wato must help with this. 

Sherlock at least opens the door for Wato to walk in first. The second Wato turns around, Sherlock scoops her up into her arms, feeling Wato’s hands fall onto her shoulders, palms warm as she grasps to steady herself. She stares directly into Wato’s eyes, watching as her pupils dilate, taking in Sherlock’s proximity and contact, her skin gently flushed with a thin layer of perspiration at her forehead. 

Her lips are a bit swollen from the kissing and Sherlock leans in with a gentle lick, as if to soothe Wato, but what she listens for is the quiet gasp that melts into a moan. It’s almost imperceptible but Sherlock hears it every time they do this. It’s one of the many sounds she prefers to hear when her mind is rattling for her attention. 

Wato kisses her back, submitting to the visceral emotion she feels when Sherlock riles her up like this. Her palms slide down the plain of her back, pulling her in closer. 

Sherlock leans into it, blindly dancing them towards the bed. As badly as Sherlock wants, so does Wato. 

The back of Wato’s knees hit the bed and she slowly stumbles back with a small bounce, but not without tugging Sherlock along with her. 

Sherlock crawls over Wato as she moves back up the bed. She stares at Wato, while Wato intently unbuttons her shirt, slowly untucking it as they move. Sherlock kisses her cheek, trying to break her focus on a trivial matter as removing her clothes.

It’s about Wato. She wants to be the one to see Wato satisfied. Sherlock wants to focus on Wato, but Wato always wants to touch, to feel, to focus on Sherlock. She ducks down to kiss Wato’s temple, her cheek, the corner of her lips, but Wato finishes unbuttoning her shirt as her back hits the bed. 

Sherlock looks down at Wato’s messy ponytail, pressing awkwardly against the pillow and her chest heaves with anticipation. She runs her hands from Wato’s waist, to her hips, gripping tightly at her pants before unbuttoning it and shoving them halfway down her thighs. It’s enough for Sherlock, but Wato strains against it, wanting to spread her legs further. 

She places a hand beside Wato’s head to steady herself. The other slips between Wato’s legs, seeking that wet heat she felt earlier. Wato is drenched against her fingers, hips jumping in response. 

“Sherlock, please,” Wato quietly begs. “Inside--”

Wato’s eyes are half closed, lips parting to gasp for air, and chest shivering with anticipation. When Sherlock slips a single digit in, Wato’s whole body vibrates and her walls attempt to squeeze around Sherlock’s slim finger. A small high pitched moan rings in Sherlock’s ears and Sherlock knows it’s Wato urging for more. 

“More?” Sherlock asks rhetorically, knowing the answer, but wanting to see Wato’s eyes snap shut, teeth biting at her bottom lip, and she nods with her bangs moving slowly, starting to stick to her forehead. Sherlock hums as she pushes another finger into Wato and she pushes against the tightening walls. The wetness that continues to pool makes it easy for Sherlock to pump her fingers.

In. Out. In. Out. 

Her strokes are broad, feeling every inch inside Wato. And Wato breathes in tandem.

In. Out. In. Out.

Sherlock observes it like cause and effect. Her strokes change to a thrust, short, bursting motion that has Wato gasping for air. Her thumb presses against the sensitive nub underneath the soft pink hood and Wato jerks against her. 

Wato struggles for air, letting pleasured sounds slip between her lips. Sherlock smiles, carefully watching for each change in Wato as she thrusts and rubs. The slickness wets Wato’s folds and between her thighs when she briefly brings her knees together to ease the tension. Sherlock keeps a relentless pace. 

“Sherlock--I’m--” Wato’s words come in fragments of her thoughts. Her eyes are slammed shut struggling to concentrate. “I’m going to--” 

“Wato, look at me,” Sherlock demands. Wato’s eyes flutter open and her back arches, mouth falling open to breath in the air because in that moment when they lock eyes, she feels an intense intimacy. Sherlock sees it, her pupils are completely blown, her lips are quivering uncontrollably, and her body is teetering towards the edge. She looks between Wato’s legs, staring at the wetness in her palm and watching her fingers disappear inside Wato. 

“Sherlock, I’m going to--” Wato groans, back arching. 

“Come.” 

Wato almost violently reacts. And it’s a sight to behold. It’s what Sherlock enjoys watching because there’s a beauty in the way that Wato comes around her fingers. She quivers and shakes and even stiffens just a bit before everything stops. And as she comes down from her climax, everything about her opens up. She finally breathes in air that’s escaped her and her chest rises with the fullness and her body opens up like a blooming flower. Her hands always seek Sherlock to pull her in like vines, grasping until she can kiss her.

Sherlock is receptive to this, allowing herself to be pulled in for a kiss. Wato likes kissing after she comes; it’s in the way that Sherlock stays close to her, curling into the kiss, bringing her comfort. 

When they break apart for air, Wato’s fingers card through Sherlock’s hair, nails gently scratching her scalp. Her eyes search Sherlock’s carefully. The intent, the focus, the concentration remains in her eyes as she stares back at Wato. 

“Let me help you now,” Wato whispers with a smile on her lips. 

Without a fight, Sherlock’s back is on the bed and Wato climbs on top of her. 

**Author's Note:**

> [do i even check my work? its okay to critique me] thanks for reading!


End file.
